


Fighting Over The Scraps

by orphan_account



Series: Conversation [2]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: Chryed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm trying not to see</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Over The Scraps

Fighting over the Scraps

 

Roxy had never liked Amira, but now the mild dislike had morphed into full-blown – vicious – hatred. When Christian had – reluctantly – filled her in on the ultimatum, the unconcealed scorn and disdain toward him she had quite simply imploded.

He'd watched, fascinated, as she built up a head of steam, giving full vent to her hatred of Syed's ex and had really only stopped her because he surmised – knowing her as well as he did – that she'd soon start taking lumps out of Syed too, and that wasn't on.

“You're surely not going to start defending her, Christian. She's a vicious, homophobic, stupid, vicious-”

“You said that.”

“Vicious.”She glared at him. “ _Tart_ , who thinks that just because she got herself pregnant - by a _gay_ bloke.” She said this in the manner of someone who assumed that the person in question was too stupid to live, which he supposed was a little unfair in a way, but still: how had Amira not bloody known? “That she has the right to what, set up house with him? Jack's Amy’s dad, but do you see me demanding that he only see her by himself? That just because I don't like his new wife or partner that I have the right to stop him from seeing her?” Since this was clearly rhetorical he confined himself to saying absolutely nothing. “I mean, what, what does she expect? That he's all of a sudden going to become straight cos there's a kid involved? Got news for you, darling: men can father kids – whether they're gay or straight. Just cos he dipped his wick don't mean- What? Well it's true, I mean he must have dipped it at least once, right? And trust me, I bloody well know he's not straight.”

Christian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Please tell me you didn't come on to him.”

“What? I was messing.”

“Roxy.”

“What? It was before you got together, if you must know. At the time I thought he was quite tasty-”

“You mean he had a dick.”

“I am _not_ an undiscriminating slut.”

“Not undiscriminating, no.”

“Oh seriously, Christian? We're gonna go there?”

“Not this again.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I'm the bigger slut,” he confessed, raising his hands in surrender.

“Thank you. And before you ask, he is so not my type.”

“No, well, what with the only liking blokes and all.”

“Like that makes a difference?”

“Point taken.”

Sighing, she threw herself on the sofa beside him. “You're not going to let her get away with it, though.”

He shrugged. “It's not about letting her get away with it, Rox. Look, we know we can get solicitors involved, and we'd probably be able to get access, but neither of us want that: it shouldn't _be_ like that. All we want is to have her in our lives. We don't want to upset Amira, but-” He raised his voice as Roxy started to interject. “But it's pretty non-negotiable, really. Syed has rights and if we have to we'll see that they're upheld. We just don't want it to ever come to that.”

“Oh Christian.” She placed her hand on his. “What a mess.”

“Tell me about it, but the one thing is that Syed's a father, and okay at first I didn't know how to feel about that, but it's actually fantastic. We have a daughter.” Seeing her face, he sighed. “Yes, I know, but it's how I feel, how Sy feels – we wanted a kid, and we've got one.”

“Christian,” she began dubiously.

“Rox, I know what you're going to say, but isn't it better to have our own kid than one who's completely unconnected to either of us?”

“Well yes, but-”

“I know that Amira's making things difficult, but I don't expect that to last forever.”

Roxy's blue eyes remained steady on his face, but she said nothing.

“Oh come on, Rox, I need support here.”

“Because even you don't believe what you're saying.”

When their eyes met neither of them felt able to say a word.

 

**

 

He was glad that Roxy wasn't his boss. Not that he had a boss, but still. And it wasn't that he didn't like Roxy. He didn't _exactly_ like her, but he'd got used to her, accepted her as Christian's best friend, accepted that she actually fulfilled some vital function for him that he apparently could not. Still, he wasn't convinced she liked _him_ that much. There was something in her eyes whenever she looked at him, even when she was smiling in his face, being all pally...That she had reservations about him was clear – if not to Christian, then certainly to him – and it didn't really help that he knew how she felt about Christian. When Christian had told him what had happened last Christmas he felt like kicking himself because of _course_ she was in love with him – it certainly made sense of that nagging air of hostility he'd always sensed around her, that sense that he was an interloper, that she and Christian would do just fine without him, thank you very much. Amazing. As far as he was aware Christian hadn't even so much as kissed a woman – like that – hadn't even _looked_ at one in that way. At least he'd _had_ a girlfriend, had actually slept with a woman – hard as it had been. What on earth could possibly make her think that Christian would be up for that in any way at all? At least Amira had been his girlfriend, his wife – she had more reason to expect certain things from him – despite the fact that she was fully aware that he was gay. Roxy...well he didn't know, just knew that he'd been getting the evil eye from her all morning. Of course he'd done his best to ignore her, but it was hard, considering that they were supposed to be friends, even though the 'friendship' was in essence all about making Christian happy.

It was actually a relief, therefore, when, after waiting till the salon was empty, she approached him, her stance familiarly combative. He'd noted previously that Roxy appeared incapable of subtlety. “So what you doing about that crazy ex wife of yours, Syed?”

“We're not divorced,” he said prissily, and immediately regretted it.

She rocked back on her heels, arms folded, an incredulous smile on her face. “Oh yeah, and why is that, exactly, Syed?”

He stared at her, lost for words.

“Oh, right, you didn't think it was important enough to give your partner – your _partner_ , the man you say you love – the peace of mind of knowing you care enough about him to get a damn divorce?” She moved her hands into a slow, incredibly irritating clap. “Nice one, Syed. Way to show him you love him. Of course it doesn't _matter_ that Christian's wanted kids, oh for _ever_. That didn't matter _then_ , did it? Oh come on. Syed, you were never interested in having a kid with him, and you know it. You did everything you could bloody think of it to fuck it up for him. And now, now you got a kid – a kid that has absolutely fucking _nothing_ to do with him – you think you've arrived, don't you?” She'd come closer to him and he could see by the way her knuckles showed white as she dug her nails hard into the fleshy palm of her hands that she was probably holding herself in check. Funny, didn't much _feel_ like she was pulling any of her punches. “You shouldn't have fucking married her in the first place, you coward. You should have been with him from the start and then none of this would be happening and _he_ wouldn't be in bits now.”

He was aware of the internal conflict as he listened to her; which feeling to go with? Righteous, indignant anger, scorn, contempt...pity? Yet somehow she'd managed to take all the wind out of sails with that last punch – a knock-out blow, just as she'd no doubt planned it to be. “What do you mean? Christian's okay with this. I mean not okay, because the situation isn't ideal, but he knows we'll sort it...” He looked into her eyes, asking for understanding, sympathy...friendship...but knew that he'd find nothing of the sort here today.

Shrugging, she stepped back a little, no doubt content that she'd drawn blood, and happy to take a moment to savour that. “Sort it? Yeah, right. The minute I heard him say you'd sort it, I fucking knew.”

“Knew what?” he asked in genuine bewilderment? Why did she hate him so much? It couldn't all be down to jealous resentment, surely.

She stared at him in utter contempt, and feeling small and unsure under that gaze, he found that he was questioning himself. Did he feel guilt? Why? He'd done nothing wrong. How could anyone think anything that resulted in a child, not even a child as beautiful as Yasmin, just a _child,_ could be wrong? Perhaps if she met Yasmin, if she actually saw the product, the real thing, rather than the _idea_ of her...

“Roxy, I know this is messed up, I know it is. I never planned this. I made a mistake, I know I did, but I have a daughter, Roxy, a beautiful, wonderful adorable little girl, and I ...love her.” He gave a helpless shrug. “How could I not? She's my daughter.”

“Oh that might work on Christian, Syed, but see me, I'm no soft touch.”

“But you're a mother. Would you honestly deny your little girl the chance to know her daddy? I mean, you're not even together; the way it came about was...I wasn't there, and I'm not one to judge, but I know it was a bit less than ideal.” Her eyes were icy, but she allowed him to go on. “So you know that it doesn't matter in the end how she got here, all you know is that she's yours and you love her to death.”

“You don't even know her.”

“She's my daughter, Roxy, as soon as I saw her I fell in love. I know her in all the ways that matter – that she'd a part of me.”

“And that's just it, Syed, can't you see? She's a part of you and Amira – where's Christian fit in to all this?”

He sighed in frustration. “I don't even understand the question. Where _doesn't_ he? He's part of me, too.”

“Yeah and if you had to choose?”

He stared at her, hating her, hating the fact that such an eventuality could even be seen as a _potential_. But he couldn't lie – she was out for blood and waiting for just that – for him to back-pedal, be less than honest. He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. “I don't know.”

They looked at each other in silence, and he couldn't help wondering if he'd just handed his enemy the rope that would hang him.


End file.
